


a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

by notorious



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, and maybe they like each other a lil bit, sin - Freeform, that’s it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notorious/pseuds/notorious
Summary: bringing lizzie into their little arrangement is perhaps the best thing hope and penelope have ever done.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park, Penelope Park/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

**Author's Note:**

> ok i edited a little bit this time. last one for today. title from shrike by hozier.

Penelope's stupid horny and waiting for a signal. A green light, a go.

Hope's down to a pair of Landon's old boxer briefs and a thin t-shirt and grinning like she just unwrapped a golden ticket in the first chocolate bar she ever bought.

Lizzie, cocky little shit that she is, is stretched out on her back, hands lingering over her chest while she tries not to smirk too heavy while thinking about the fact that Penelope's sitting between her spread legs and just  _ staring _ .

Their tribrid seems to be right there with her, too, because, "It's not polite to stare, Pen," Hope says without a lick of sarcasm. "Isn't polite to keep such a pretty thing waiting, either."

"She's not wrong," Lizzie muses aloud, tugging at her thumb to distract her from dishing out further criticism. She’s not supposed to be mean to Penelope in moments like these. 

"You're both ruining this," Penelope says, "I hope you know."

She doesn't mean it.

Their talk has never ruined this before, whatever  _ this _ is. They won't define it, none of them. That'd be crossing a line, Lizzie thinks, because if this is anything other than messy trysts among messier women who don't want to talk about it come sunrise then they're all destined for hell.

Probably going there anyhow, she thinks, too, but doesn't take much issue with that fact.

So long as Penelope is there. Penelope, who she’s supposed to hate but hasn’t since maybe the fourth time they kissed. 

Hope's grown on her, too, over the years, but she would've sent her packing straight back to New Orleans if it were up to her as a child. These days she might take a bullet for Hope; in the leg, maybe, she thinks, or the shoulder, or an arm, but nowhere that'd put her down in a single shot. She'd want time to say goodbye.

Only Josie can say Lizzie’d die for her on the spot, and that's not about to change. But Josie isn't here, thank the gods.

And it's Penelope who has the power to get Lizzie laid out and docile and eager to take what she's given.

Okay — Penelope under Hope's command, but that's another matter entirely.

It's a delicate balance, all of it.

And when Penelope looks down at Lizzie just then it's with the sweetest swath of lust painted across her face, green eyes hungry and full of awe, coy little smirk seeped in devilish intent and so much pride, that Lizzie can't deny that this is where she belongs. Right here, open and vulnerable, where she is cared for. With Penelope, who would gut a man and bring her his heart if Lizzie asked her to. Penelope, who’s accosted a total of three men in the past eleven days for  _ looking _ wrong at Lizzie. It’s a wonder she’s not in witch prison, truly, but Lizzie wouldn’t have her anywhere other than right here. Right now.

"Go on," Hope says a moment later, when Penelope's hands have started to inch up Lizzie’s legs and the air's begun to crackle with anticipation.

Green light.

_ Go _ .

Penelope's hands fall to the crux of Lizzie’s thighs and, like she's peeling back the petals of a rose, thumbs open the folds of the siphon's cunt. Lizzie’s pink and glistening, ripe for the taking, and Penelope would die a happy woman if all she got to do was  _ look _ . Getting to do more feels like a trillion lifetimes of bliss.

First time this happened it was Penelope on her belly with Hope behind her and between her legs, fucking her nice and slow with a cock fastened by leather straps, while Lizzie perched on the edge of the bed and just watched. That was the introductory let’s-bring-Lizzie-into-this time, the time six months ago in the middle of the night with the door sealed and intrigue dialed to max.

Second time Hope let Lizzie take Penelope in the showers just before daybreak on a Sunday, watched from the sinks while the siphon stuffed the witch full of her fingers and had her ride them until she came with her mouth latched on to Lizzie’s shoulder in a bite that left a bruise for three weeks.

Hope and Lizzie have a thing for watching.

Penelope has a thing for being watched.

And they’ve all got things for each other.

Works well, really, with Lizzie and Penelope under Hope’s control while the tribrid sits high and mighty on her throne. Her commands are never cruel, nor are they ever anything the siphon and the witch cannot handle.

“Can feel your hunger from here, Pen,” Hope says, knocking back a sip from the flask she keeps in the nightstand. “Got a question for me?”

Penelope hums, thumbing over Lizzie’s clit, and tosses a look over her shoulder at Hope, muttering, “Wanna taste her.”

“Ah?”

“Please,” Penelope adds.

Hope nods.

When Penelope sinks her tongue into Lizzie it feels like the first time she got to taste her all over again. Feels warm and wet and tastes like dewdrops, a gift from the heavens, and when Penelope hooks her arms under Lizzie’s thighs to hold her open she doesn’t think there will ever be a finer feast than this.

“Words, Lizzie,” Hope says.

“‘M a little busy,” Lizzie whines, threading her fingers through Penelope’s hair to guide her to places the witch already knows to go.

“One word, then.”

“Soft,” Lizzie says after a moment. She always swears Penelope’s got the softest tongue she’s ever felt. Swears, too, that what Penelope can do with her mouth is a gift from the gods.

Like when she licks her open and scrapes her teeth over Lizzie’s clit, or when she bites the inside of her thigh in just the right spot that has the siphon seeing stars. Her lips are soft, too, for that matter, and when she presses gentle, wet, little kisses to her core it’s enough to send shivers down her spine and leave her squirming as the witch coaxes her down from her high.

Penelope cleans her up with long, slow licks until Lizzie can barely hold her eyes open.

But Hope’s not through with them yet.

She fetches her new favorite toy from the dresser, the strapless cock that’s held in place by an insert she slips into herself after she peels off her clothes and joins her girls in bed.

All she’s got to do is give Penelope a little nod for the witch to know what she wants.

“Oh, hell,” Lizzie mumbles through a sleepy grin as she’s pulled onto her side and presented with Penelope’s chest. She drapes an arm around the witch’s middle and mouths lazily at her collarbone, kisses down her sternum, between her breasts, while Hope settles in behind her.

First thing Lizzie feels is the tribrid’s lips against the back of her shoulder, tender kisses on her skin that feel like teeny tiny raindrops of ecstasy. Then a hand on her waist, one of Hope’s, and then one of Penelope’s on the back of her thigh, lifting her leg for Hope to tuck in and take her.

Always feels bigger from this angle, Hope stretching her open from behind while she’s laid out on her side with her lips around Penelope’s nipple and the witch’s hands lost in her hair to urge her on. With Penelope’s supple skin at her front and Hope’s bare chest at her back Lizzie doesn’t think she’s ever felt so close to two people in her entire life. It’s comforting, truly, to lay between the girl who just brought her to climax with her mouth and the girl who’s going to pump her full of silicone cock until she comes undone all over again.

And so Lizzie just lays there, lays there and lets Hope and Penelope have her in ways that no one’s ever had her before. It’s always easy to let Hope fuck her, but it’s easier now because she’s tired and limp and her girls guide her where she needs to go.

Doesn’t take much longer for Hope to push Lizzie over the edge, to fill her to the point where she clenches and can barely release and just shudders and shakes through another orgasm while Hope kisses the back of her shoulder, mumbling, “such a good girl,” until she stills.

And when Lizzie stills it’s only because sleep’s swallowed her whole, still full of Hope, still with her mouth against Penelope’s chest, and she doesn’t doubt for a second that she’ll be waking up to the very same thing.


End file.
